Sunday, November 28, 2010

Well, it's been a sort of "finish up" weekend. Yesterday I got the storeroom packed away and resorted and all of a sudden I have this big open space and you can actually move in there. The cats are thrilled - new places to explore and jump on.

Also yesterday, Michelle and I went for our end of month lunch. She's the owner of Sisters where I work and the last Saturday of every month we go for lunch and talk about the next month's schedule, ideas for increasing business and just what's happening in our lives in general. It's a relaxing time and we try all the different restaurants. Yesterday was Dolly's Fish Market ( which is a favourite. They do the best chowders - actually the whole menu is delicious. I indulged in the Seafood Pasta - penne with halibut, large shrimp and scallops. Yum!

This morning I worked on Sisters books and got everything up-to-date. They are not complicated, but I do need to be able to concentrate, which some days means shutting the cats OUT.

And I spent some time writing to Sara, a little girl I sponsor in El Salvadore. I've been remiss in my letter writing and I thought I better get back to it before she thinks I've forgotten her! It's really a fun thing to do once you work out what to talk about with a not quite 6 year old who lives in a place you've never seen. And I love getting her letters back - she always sends me a drawing.

Samuel Johnson again.

A Short Song of Congratulation

Long-expected one and twenty
Ling'ring year at last has flown,
Pomp and pleasure, pride and plenty,
Great Sir John are all your own.

Loosened from the minor's tether;
Free to mortgage or to sell,
Wild as wind and light as feather
Bid the slaves of thrift farewell.

Call the Bettys, Kates and Jennys
Every name that laughs at care,
Lavish of your grandsire's guineas,
Show the spirit of an heir.

All that prey on vice and folly
Joy to see their quarry fly:
Here the gamester light and jolly,
There the lender grave and sly.

Wealth, Sir John, was made to wander,
Let it wander as it will;
See the jockey, see the pander,
Bid them come, and take their fill.

When the bonny blade carouses,
Pockets full, and spirits high,
What are acres? what are houses?
Only dirt, or wet or dry.

If the guardian or the mother
Tell the woes of wilful waste,
Scorn their counsel and their pother,
You can hang or drown at last.

Obviously S.J. was not expecting good things from this young man, whoever he was.

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